


If anything happens

by asgardianthot



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers Tower, Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Declarations Of Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Romance, Sam Wilson Feels, sam wilson is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 11:33:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asgardianthot/pseuds/asgardianthot
Summary: Their feelings for each other have been lost and found and lost again for months. Then Bucky gets injured…





	If anything happens

“Oh, my god.” Wanda raised her eyebrows, her elbows up on the counter, “You guys are dating.”

Sam frowned, “What?”

She shook her head with a smile, the news getting her hyped in the most positive and happiest way; she backed away in a less intrusive posture.

“How long has it been going on?”

Yet her cheerful attitude had the man taken aback, “We’re not dating!” he declared, placing down his cup of freshly-made coffee on the counter, “No, how could we-“

“Oh. I see.” Wanda squinted, however seeing how Sam was clearly waiting for an explanation of her sudden change of words, she mentally agreed to be more verbal with his very clueless co-worker, “You’re downright the stupidest person I have ever met.”

Sam raised his eyebrows with shock and offense, “Excuse me?”

The young woman had to tone it down, “Look, when you came back from that mission, you talked it through, right?” The response being more cluelessness, she now was furiously rolling her eyes, “Your feelings, dumbass! How you left things, how you want them to continue!”

Processing the thought, Sam held his weight on the counter behind him and limited himself to biting the inside of his cheek. Wanda lowered her head, looking dead into his eyes with utter seriousness.

“You _did_ have that conversation, _right_?” she pressured.

“No.” He simply replied, suddenly believing there might have been a better approach at the whole _Bucky_ situation, “Why? Should we?”

Bucky had kissed him. Or, perhaps it was Sam who kissed him, the lines of who took the initiative were a bit blurry but the point was that there had been a kiss. A very confused, very desperate, hungry kiss, coming from two mouths that found themselves drawn to each other like they knew they were bound to happen. It had taken months of awkward stares, developing to witty comments which sounded like they held a double meaning and would turn the spokesperson ashamed of ever saying it.

It had taken months of their messy dynamic and mean jokes, months of risking their lives together, months of uneasy proximity, realizing that the other person _felt that too_. But eventually, Sam let something slip, an implicative comment, an unmerciful glance. Anything could have been that last drop to overflow a glass full of unspoken feelings at that point. And after that one kiss, after that frozen look of _want_, came another one, and then more, until they shared a three-day period of utter confusion, awkward laughs and needy escapades to get back to each other’s lips.

That was, until Sam got a mission call. It was simple, not risky nor complicated, but it needed a well-thought plan which took a very long time to execute. And so, Sam fled the compound without a word, for he didn’t exactly know what to say when saying goodbye.

Wanda shook her head again, only this time, it was with great disappointment.

“I have no words for you.” At the sound of that, Sam threw an aimless hand in the air along with a puff of air, but she cut him off before he could even start ranting, “You left for _months_, right after everything happened. How could you not-? What did you tell him that could possibly replace the need for a heart-to-heart?”

Sam thought hard, trying to remember with a big frown on his face what was the actual first thing he said to Bucky when he came back.

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I asked him for an update report.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open, then closed it back up as her anger surpassed her shock.

“An update report.” She repeated, her tone low and full of disbelief.

Noticing the patronizing on her voice, Wilson defended himself, “I’d been gone for months! I had no idea what was going on in the compound, I needed an update!”

“And you couldn’t have asked _me_?” she reminded him of that possibility, but the intention was to make him realize that he had acted willingly and for a purpose.

As a matter of fact, the more he cracked his head around it, he began to take notice of what was the only thing ringing in his stupid brain the second he set foot in the compound.

“I… wanted to talk to _him_.” He admitted, a truthful tone exposing a little vulnerability; yet at the sound of no reply, he threw his hands in the air again, “I didn’t know it was such a stupid thing to do!”

“Of course it was, now he thinks you’re not into him, because you avoided the subject with a _report_!” Maximoff scolded him.

Instead of continuing to bark at each other back and forth, Sam cooled off and showed her his hands in order to communicate that intent.

“Okay, alright, so… What if I… want to talk about it? You know, what do I do?”

The only thing Wanda was able to do was sigh, naturally gaining a smirk across her face when seeing how helpless the man looked.

“I hate being right sometimes.” She let out, a hand on her hip, and found herself needing to explain further one more time, “He thought you guys were dating. _You_ just didn’t get the memo.”

Having pointed her finger at Sam, she walked out of that kitchen without looking back.

“What do you mean?” Wilson tried to get her attention, but it was pointless, “Hey. Wanda, what does that mean?!”

-

Bucky wasn’t one to be careless over the people in his life. He was constantly worrying about their safety, concerned over the fact that he himself tended to attract bad things and the constant fear and guilt that came with his past. He had more than once believed that the sole fact of having the Avengers close put them in harm’s way, so his concern was not only constant, but silent. Kept to himself.

Nevertheless, when Sam left abruptly for a one-man mission, sent by SHIELD, he had to ask.

“Hey, Clint?” he pointed to a screen when Barton walked in the room, where Bucky had been waiting to receive some explanatory company, “What are these?”

Clint noticed the coded numbers and replied easily, “Wilson’s coordinates.”

The archer resumed to whatever task he had come in for, sitting in front of a desk. However Barnes had his mind railing over the symbols. If his coding skills and knowledge weren’t too rusty, he was right to believe those coordinates indicated proximity. And if his memory of the actual mission wasn’t failing, proximity could only mean his steps had been completed to the point of being almost done, according to plan.

“Which means he’ll be back soon, right?” he dared to ask.

“Should be, yeah.” Barton answered, still focused on his own screen, “Why?”

“What if he’s not?” the soldier couldn’t help but ramble a little, out of pure and genuine uncertainty, “Back soon, I mean. That would be bad news, right?”

That was more than enough questions for Clint to turn his chair around and face him with an odd, suspicious look on his face.

“You growing a soft spot for him or something?” he shot rather rudely, to which Bucky frowned like he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, “What’s got you so worried?”

It was up to him now to pretend nothing was happening nor had happened; not the kisses, the sentiment exchanges, the touches, the hand guiding into confined spaces, not the butterflies in his stomach nor the excitement in the pit of his stomach when thinking about Sam coming back and resuming where they left off.

“Jesus, I’m sorry for caring.” He forced a scoff through a sentence that had Clint squinting his eyes, for it wasn’t something anyone would expect to come from Barnes’ mouth, “You’re the one who said we needed to look after each other.”

Barton decided to simply snort out loud, mocking the man’s unusual behavior, as he was fully aware that something was going on, even if he didn’t know what that was. So he simply focused back on his task, a smirk on his face still. Bucky squinted his eyes and abandoned the room for good after that.

-

The worst part about getting a compound alert right when Sam wanted to go talk to Bucky wasn’t the bad timing; it was the lack of agents near reach. The Avengers had become skimpy after all, not truly a unit but more of a disperse team. With only Wanda and Bucky living there permanently –from lack of a better living situation– Sam had followed, merely out of feeling like he had to; like the gratitude of being allowed to be a hero could only be paid by dedicating his life to Avenging. The problem was, it was only them. And Barton, at the moment, when he wasn’t taking time off with his family. The whole ‘I need to be there’ speech quite stuck on him as well.

And they usually would get a better-thought page, one that involved more heroes for the job, or maybe less heroes but along with a proper strategy. Usually, but this this was a SHIELD raid, which meant, they didn’t need _plan_ nor _well-thought_, they needed _quick_. So, quickly, the four heroes ran to the quinjet while receiving orders from Fury.

In there, the two men who had been more than tense and avoiding each other, shared looks. Undecipherable looks. Wanda, on her part, was expectant as one would be in a romantic drama type of movie, even shooting glances at Sam, like saying ‘well?’, and the Falcon had no proper answer, even if he could have said something out loud. Bucky, with his upset expression, was definitely not okay with the overall situation. He was focusing on his own boots with a small frown, not wanting to talk and keeping it all to himself. So the silence in the jet was painful.

“And here I thought I’d get a quiet weekend.” Barton broke the tension while flying the quinjet, although his idea of tension was explained by the upcoming mission, and not an emotional quarrel between two soldiers.

Wanda felt even more awkward after that attempt, herself fully aware of what was going on.

“Is Lang still off-radar?” she made a second attempt, asking Clint.

Yet it was Wilson who cut her off, already knowing the answer would be a hard no.

“We don’t need tic-tac, we’re fine.” He reassured them of something he believed to be absolutely true, which was why they hadn’t even bothered to call Rhodey or anyone else for that matter: it was just a raid, it should be a piece of cake, “He’d just get himself stepped on.”

Bucky was left to roll his eyes at the snarky comment. He usually would have comeback and derailed the mocking to an offense towards Sam, turning it on him like they always did jokingly, but for now everything that came out of Samuel Wilson’s mouth pissed him off.

He had, after all, pretended like nothing happened. He had, after all, not even dignify Bucky with a simple explanation, not even to say he wasn’t interested anymore. Nothing. And he had had the balls to shove the moments they’d shared under the table by coming to him first for a goddamn report. That was everything Barnes could think about; how angry he was, how humiliated and vulnerable he felt, for he had welcomed Sam with an anxious smile, and awkward smile like the one Sam had kissed through the first time, one that stated ‘I’ve been waiting for you’. He had put himself out there, only to be rejected in such a _chill_ way.

Hopefully –well, not really, but for the soldiers’ sake–, a signal hit Barton’s visuals in the jet’s screens.

“All communications on.” He called for the rest of the team.

They all complied and heard Fury switch his original orders to new, shouted and hectic ones. It sounded like the situation had worsened, and Fury was not desperate but angry. It hit him differently when it came to his organization; like his work was being violated and tainted. The second they landed, they ran for all hell, both the team and Director Fury all caught up in a frenzy.

It didn’t stop Sam from reaching out to Bucky as soon as he could, though.

“Barnes, we should-“

“Hit the skies, then through the window.” The man cut him off.

He was repeating Fury’s orders to him, like the Falcon wasn’t entirely sure about them. Yet it was all fake, and they both sort of knew it. Bucky was just avoiding him.

Sam squinted his eyes nonetheless, “I know, I was trying to-“

“Your earpiece okay?” Barnes spat.

“It is, I-“

“Then hit the skies and through the window.”

That being said, and very harshly said, he strutted his way, leaving Sam to grunt as he set his wings up and flew away.

Barton led Wanda and Bucky through the subterranean ladder. The latter went in through land for recognition, always right in the line of fire. He couldn’t help it. As they reached the hallways of the occupied facilities, there was nothing but calm and quiet besides them. Only a few seconds later, the shooting broke loose from a group of enemies.

Barnes was the first one to fire back, which gave away their position but was inevitable. He hit one, two, three hostiles while Clint shot one and Wanda threw two out the window. The best sniper in the US Army, indeed. That way, as more hostiles came in the way, the three heroes attacked their way to the communications room where Fury had instructed them to rescue SHIELD agents being held hostages.

“Air’s safe.” Wilson’s word was heard in everyone’s ears through the comms.

Right in that moment, an attacker was disclosed when Bucky reached a corner, and he would have been more apt to hear him coming if he hadn’t been so damn focused on not getting railed up at Sam Wilson’s voice. Since that wasn’t the case, the bullet almost got too close to him. If he got hit, he definitely would blame the man. That one attacker turned out to be more than a dozen, and the ones Bucky didn’t hit or Maximoff didn’t knock out with her powers, ran towards Barton.

“The top floor’s all yours.” The Falcon spoke again, “They look like amateurs.”

Barton scoffed as a man got close enough to be out of reach for his arrows.

“They don’t fight like amateurs.” He replied out of breath while taking out the attacker hand in hand.

As he dialogued with Wilson, the archer got punched in the ribs, hard, and felt himself a little cornered before Wanda saved him. As the hostile flew away in a magenta-colored cloud, Clint gave her a nod of gratitude. Meanwhile, Bucky was still at front.

“You have clear entrance.” Sam insisted, “Go now.”

It took one last effort to take out all attackers, resourcing to take them all out through killing. That wasn’t always their intent. Barnes usually tried to neutralize the offense by shooting their legs or shoulders, something they could recover from, instead of adding more deaths to his books. And killing for SHIELD felt even more disgusting to both him and Maximoff. Once they reached upstairs, they broke the communication room, where a few raid-responsible men were aiming their guns at the hostages as a warning.

That was when, perfectly timed, Sam burst through the window and shot two of them. Continuingly, they all four fought the remaining ones.

“See? Told you.” Wilson stated, locking his wings in, “Piece of cake.”

“You and Clint take care of the agents.” Wanda ignored his cocky attitude with more orders, “Barnes, with me.”

The appellee nodded, following behind the woman and leaving the other two to untie the agents and help them out the emergency door. It shouldn’t have to be a difficult task, given how as the agents were freed, they were in full capacity to look after themselves. The sole problem in that mission was the amount of people in that raid trying to kill the Avengers.

As soon as Bucky and Wanda walked through the door, though, they were received by more shooting. As much as Clint or Sam wanted to help, they recognized the first thing to do when facing a new threat was getting the hostages’ hands and feet loose. They fought the guns off. Maximoff was strong enough to send them away and Barnes had perfect aim, so it wasn’t a tough fight but a long one.

Suddenly, a paralyzing sentence was yelled over comms.

“Barnes is down!” The feminine voice rang on Sam’s ears.

And he needed nothing more to leave the agents on their own and run in the same direction the two enhanced had gone before. As soon as he reached them, he saw Bucky thrown on the floor, blood beginning to pool under his body while he held his ribs, grimacing.

“What the hell happened?” he asked loudly to the woman who was still fighting off offensives.

At the lack of response, he switched his sight to the machine gun facing them both. Quite the strategy those amateurs had planned. This wasn’t a machine gun, it was a bloody canon brought up as a last resource, an element of surprise to hurt them when they least expected it. He blocked the bullets with his wings while Wanda destroyed the whole thing and blasted the attackers away. Again, they were most likely dead than injured.

Being able to focus on the injured man now, Sam placed his hands on Bucky’s shoulders.

“Where?” he asked.

The man merely groaned, not even giving a proper response. Therefore, Wilson stuck to the spot that was being held out in pain. He opened his vest and saw the blood coming from right below his chest. He felt the air leave his own body at the sight of it and the possibility of the bullets flooding Bucky’s lungs.

“We need an exit!” the veteran screamed, the desperation invading him.

Maximoff broke the glass window with his powers to allow them a clear exit, letting Sam know she would be helping them out by lifting Bucky swiftly through the air. The Falcon then ran and flew out the window, followed by the floating body. Unfortunately Wanda’s concentration was derailed by the sight of another gun aimed towards her in the distance, fighting him off with one of her hands and losing control over Barnes in the process.

“Bucky!” she yelled more as a way to avert Wilson than as a genuine reaction.

So the winged soldier rushed to catch him mid-air, rather roughly, therefore getting a good cry-out from the man.

“I got you, I got you.” He reassured him as he held him by the armpits, something he thought must have hurt like a bitch, if not by simple deduction, by the sound of Bucky’s painful moan, “I’m sorry, I got you.”

He managed to fly them both to the quinjet, stopping outside and dragging him in as Bucky’s head lulled to his sides, numbed out by pain. When Sam laid him down on the table, he let out a loud groan, which, at least, let the veteran know he was still conscious.

“Tell me where you are.” He tested that consciousness while hectically removing the vest from his body, and admiring how his shirt was soaked in thick blood.

Bucky’s voice was hoarse, “Dumbass jet.”

Sam filed it as an indicative of awareness but asked another question to be sure, “Who am I?”

Barnes couldn’t help a small side smile to grow on his worn out face, his dazed eyes focusing on Sam’s blurry features.

“A fucking moron.” He pulled off.

Wilson was left to stare down at him with a big sad frown, wanting to smile at him for insulting him even on such a state, and he wanted him not to hate him. Not now, not when he was hurt and half gone. If he could go back in time, he sure as hell would, he would talk to him and tell him how he felt, so that he wouldn’t bleed out on the table thinking Sam didn’t want him back. Thinking that the man who was trying to heal his wounds had rejected him.

Suddenly, Bucky’s eyes started closing down and his pupils rolled back into his skull for a second, beginning to faint. Yet Sam grabbed his face not too gently and patted his cheek.

“Hey, hey, no. No! Stay with me!” he said in despair, forcing his eyelids open; the victim groaned as if asking to be left the hell alone, “That’s it, look at me. Can you stay awake? Do that for me?”

Just like an angel fallen to his rescue, the earpieces rang with good news, “Task Forces came in!” Wanda’s voice sounded like the best melody any of them had ever heard in that moment, “Clint, fly the boys home, now!”

“Running.” The other man replied.

“Ya heard that?” Sam asked Bucky, still holding his head, “We’re gonna go home. We’re gonna fix you up.”

He ripped the bloody shirt open and rapidly fetched the medical kit under the table. He stole a glance to count the bullet holes, one, two, three. He couldn’t turn Barnes’ body over in order to see if there were any exit wounds or if he had all three bullets inside him. All he could do for him was press some gauze on the wound. Bucky moaned in pain, loudly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologized frantically as he applied more pressure, and Bucky seemed to be woken up by the pain, panting while staring up at the ceiling, “You’re gonna be alright.”

He glared at Sam, “I hate you.” He spat through gritted teeth.

And he wasn’t just speaking nonsense, blindly attacking the man who caused him pain. No, he was also referring to how he was the last person he wanted to be doing that to him. He was so angry at him, he genuinely hated him, and the fact that he was making him ache so badly while doing his best to keep him alive wasn’t helping.

“I know.” Wilson agreed to both things, getting more gauze because the bleeding wasn’t stopping, “Just stay awake.”

Finally, Barton came in, and Sam didn’t even glance at him.

“Get us to the compound! Now!” he barked angrily, not wanting to sound desperate before when it was just him and Bucky, but now all he needed was to save his life.

So Clint did as commanded and soon enough the jet was flying away, the only sounds heard being the quiet hovering noise the jet produced, Bucky’s breathing and complaints, and Sam’s soothing words.

“How’s he doing?” Barton asked after a minute or two of no words being exchanged.

Wilson sighed and cooled himself down before answering, trying not to take it out on Barton, who clearly had no fault in Bucky’s state.

“I’m looking at a… definitely broken rib. Probably multiple. I’m hoping no punctured lung.”

It was the diagnose he had in his head. It explained why it hurt so badly, and he couldn’t not apply pressure or else he would effectively bleed out. No superserum could prevent that, eventually. And if it he was only bleeding out, that would mean they still had a long –although painful- time before his state worsened drastically. On the other hand, if he was also bleeding _in_…

Barnes chest convulsed for him to cough up, and he coughed up blood. It meant what Sam feared: punctured lung. It made him panic even more, now that it became harder and harder for Bucky to breathe.

“Sam.” He wheezed out.

“Please, please, please.” The man begged, his hands covered in blood and keeping him still while his own voice turned shaky, “Just five more minutes. Hold on just five minutes.”

“Sam…” his voice was now a whisper.

Wilson shut his eyes, teary eyed. Hopelessness kicking in.

“I don’t- I don’t know what else to do.”

Bucky’s eyes were far closed, his mouth gaped slightly as his throat did all the work of trying to pass air towards lungs that wouldn’t cooperate. He sounded less agonizing now, but by the looks of it, that was exactly the situation, with still a few minutes to get him to safety.

-

When he reopened his eyes, everything was different. The room was silent, for real, this time, no wheezing or panting or jet noises. He didn’t feel pain anymore, and he didn’t have any difficulty breathing. Instead, he felt comfortable and nursed back to health. That was when he took in his surroundings and realized he was on a hospital bed, in a sided room at the compound. Safe and sound, and patched up by the sensation of an unharmed chest.

The second thing he noticed was the company: Sam was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, busy staring at his phone in complete silence. Bucky thought he had probably stayed there waiting for him to wake up, taking the blame for what happened. And Bucky knew it wasn’t his fault, therefore the only reason behind his concern was some sort of pity mission after basically dumping him without words.

As he accommodated himself a little, he felt a mild sting where the bullets used to be, where his ribs had cracked, but it was bearable now. Nonetheless, the sounds caused Sam to notice him.

“Great.” Barnes groaned, placing his back against the pillow, “I didn’t die.”

Wilson, on his behalf, stood up quickly, as if wanting to check on his injuries, or hug him or something. Instead, he remained standing up, awkwardly and not knowing what to do next. He let out a nervous breath that sounded more like a laugh.

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

As a matter of fact, he didn’t have much more to add. He was rather frozen in spot, staring at the man who almost died in his arms, quite dramatically, and with whom he felt he couldn’t be completely honest. The whole ‘not talking about it’ drama had expanded to the point he didn’t even know what he couldn’t talk about.

“Well, I can’t leave you guys alone.” Bucky brushed it off, “I’d be a terrible soldier if I did.”

That was how Sam understood that the former sergeant wasn’t letting anything go. He was purposely shoving their exchanged feelings under the rug so he didn’t have to verbally express how upset he was, which was diminishing both Sam’s feelings for him _and_how terrified he was in that quinjet.

“Bucky…” he tried, but was cut off immediately.

“Hey, thanks for pulling me out.” The man’s tone was distant but not cold; Sam gave in and nodded to his gratitude, “I’m fine, though, so you can go on with your day.”

That being said, Bucky propped himself up with his elbows, in order to be partially sitting on the bed, but the movements still caused him to groan. It hadn’t been too long after surgery, after all. To the sounds of distress, Sam rushed to give him a hand but the man rejected it harshly.

“Trust me, I’m alright.” He sighed, the pain gone by now, “I don’t need your pity.”

That shot of honesty was all Sam required to cross the _unspoken _line. He was going to speak and discuss everything he didn’t remember if he was allowed to discuss or not. He took one step back not to invade his privacy.

“Pity? Buck, why do you think I’m here?” He frowned.

The appellee shrugged, “Guilt.” He said easily.

The response brought a smirk to Wilson’s face, but it wasn’t a very positive one. If the term ‘sad smirk’ hadn’t been invented yet, he definitely thought that was the name of the expression he held. Lacking the need for any more proof of the man’s feelings, he moved decisively to sit next to him.

Bucky seemed startled by the gesture, “What are you-“

“_Move_.”

“No, it’s my bed.”

“I’m sitting with you now, move.”

And so he complied, although still confused and somewhat reminding himself that he should be upset. Sam’s hands guided him to where he could lay down comfortably, and Bucky let himself be manhandled for the sake of his ribs. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to lay next to him for hours and just stare at each other, he wanted Sam’s company. But it appeared since the moment he came back from his mission he didn’t want that back. So now, seeing Wilson lay his dumb head on that hospital bed pillow altered his perception even further.

Sam couldn’t contain a smile as they both looked at each other, not touching but closer than ever.

“You look ridiculous.” Bucky commented on the sight.

“You’re wearing a hospital gown, you don’t look so glamorous yourself.” He shot back, earning the smallest side-smirk from Barnes, who quickly concealed it. “Listen to me. You are one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, if not the worst of them all.” The approach had Bucky raising an eyebrow, shocked at best. “You’re reckless, you’re dumb-“

“Gee, thanks.” Barnes interrupted him with an offended frown.

Sam, however, ignored him and continued his speech, “You are literally the most obnoxious person when it comes to _not_ looking after yourself and you have no regard for your own personal safety nor happiness.”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Bucky insisted, beginning to lose interest in the insult rant, “Cause fuck you too, Sam, _jesus_.”

Once again, Wilson saw himself forced to avoid a proper answer to seek a lineal sense of coherence in his narration. Instead, he let an amused smile escape him before raising his voice so that his message came across loud and clear.

“So I understand how you would miss what’s right before your eyes. But I’ve never known you to be naïve, Bucky.” Only then did Barnes was at a loss of words, starting to understand Sam’s intent, “You know what happened and you know what it meant. If you would just… let me make up for not talking about it right after I got back… I’d like to discuss it now.”

Bucky wanted to listen. He really did. But the possibility of it becoming a praise tale of how great he was and how much Sam liked him yet ending with ‘however’ and ‘just colleagues’, was something that weighed far more than his excitement. If that were the case, he didn’t want to be stabbed in the heart nor shot in the chest all over again.

“I’m really not interested in your explanation, Sam.” Bucky sighed, against his inner will, “You wanna forget what happened, you can just leave, no hard feelings.”

Sam shook his head and placed one gentle hand on Barnes cheek, some mild disbelief plastered on his own features.

“I don’t know which of us is the dumbest, I swear to god.”

And Bucky understood with all certainty.

“It’s you, it’s one hundred percent you.” He told Sam, not allowing himself to smile.

He meant it, keeping in mind how he hadn’t even mentioned the subject until now even though he _wanted_ Bucky like Bucky wanted _him_.

“Probably, yeah.” Sam had to agree, “Cause I sure as hell wanted to say I wanted to try that kiss again, and I don’t know why I didn’t say so. Then you were literally dying on my arms and I thought… _if anything happens to him, I lost my one chance at being with him, and I really want that chance_.”

Bucky clacked his tongue, pensive.

“You asked for a damn report.”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Sam tried to explain, “I didn’t know how.”

“You could have just said ‘hi, it’s been a while’.”

“I’ll try that next time.” The words came out instinctively, and he hoped he hadn’t screw up, so he added a stipulation, “If you forgive me.”

Bucky took a big breath. _Was hard not to forgive him after that speech_.

“Well, I’m very much alive.” He said almost rolling his eyes, “You still want that chance?”

A warm smile creeped its way into Wilson’s face.

“I’d like that-“

Yet Barnes didn’t let him finish, instead clashing his lips against the Falcon’s, whose hand that still stood on the soldier’s cheek cupped the entire face tenderly. Bucky’s free hand also went to find the other man, holding the back of his head for good measure, while one of their tongues slipped in softly. It wasn’t as desperate as the other kisses, it wasn’t so needy nor senseless; this kiss, instead felt like the last piece of a puzzle. It felt like it made sense.

When they disconnected their lips and stared deep into each other’s eyes, Bucky’s impulse was to smile.

“Here’s an update report for you.” He said cheekily, “I’m still in love with you.”

Wilson drew his face a little back for a better sight, “Love?”

The soldier suddenly regretted his choice of words, but didn’t want to take the truth back, so he simply went with it, “You’re not gonna run away now, are you? Fly away in those little wings of yours?”

_Of course_ he would mock Sam as a manner of processing his oversharing. The veteran could only chuckle and affectively place a loose strand of hair behind his ears.

“No, I won’t, _love_.” He mocked him back, “Gonna take much more than that for you to scare me off.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.” He added before launching for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so the whole avengers situation is kind of unclear... tbh I picture this scenario as post-endgame, so that's why there's almost no original avengers and they're sort of figuring things out in avengers tower. It was sad to write such an empty tower but sambucky really is the ship that lights the path ahead (in this fic and in the uncertainty of the MCU's future)


End file.
